


What's In A Home, Anyway?

by Kizimba



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Cuddling, David Acting as Max's Parental Figure | Dadvid (Camp Camp), Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Major Character Injury, Max's (Camp Camp) Parents Are Bad Parents, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Scars, Sickfic, Stealing, brief suicide ideation towards the end, concussions aren't nice, mentions of underage smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizimba/pseuds/Kizimba
Summary: Max is an Indian kid and Indian kids are raised different. As far as he’s been taught, some corporal punishment and a bit of negligence is totally normal. So what if he had to grow up too fast? So what if he learned to use his anger as a shield, even if it got him in trouble more often than not? As long as Max could break everyone else before they could break him, he was safe.At Camp Campbell, Max was prepared for people like Gwen, Campbell, and even the Quartermaster (to a reasonable extent, anyway).He wasn't prepared for someone like David.
Relationships: David & Max (Camp Camp)
Comments: 143
Kudos: 341





	1. The First Three

**Author's Note:**

> If I have any dyslexic readers who would find it easier if I created a podfic (is that what it's called? Where I read it aloud?) for them, please let me know! :)

Max did _not_ want to have this conversation.

Max _really_ did _not_ want to have this conversation.

Looking into David’s eyes the angry boy wondered if he could will the man’s death if he tried hard enough.

All things considered, Max made this coffin himself. And, he realized, he’d been building it since the start of the summer.

**\--0--**

The very first day of camp David had looked at Max’s bitter frown and declared; “No need to be scared, little guy! We’re going to have lots of fun at camp together!” Then, to the detriment of his own health, he’d proceeded to hug the inimical little boy.

Max had hated him ever since.

\-- **1** \--

“Maaax!” David’s irritating ‘warning tone’ cut through the typical morning bustle of the mess hall. A week in and no-one doubted his contempt for the camp any longer, of course with the exception of David. But that didn’t bother him.

Everyone had a breaking point, after all. And Max was really good at finding them. Of course he sometimes got himself in serious trouble for it but he figured being able to take a hit was a good character trait anyway.

At first he thought David was going to reprimand him for instigating another argument between the camp’s magic kids. It was one of the more entertaining past times Max had found to occupy himself with and the two were just so _easy_ to set off.

He rolled his eyes and turned to the approaching ginger with a scowl.

“You haven’t even touched your breakfast!” David accused, presenting the boy with his abandoned tray of potatoes.

“Fuck off, David,” Max grunted dismissively. Almost four days without coffee was four days too many. If he didn’t get a coffee maker soon he’d have to revisit the Pest Control Camp to pick up Pin the Rattlesnake again. He wondered if David could reach the same pitch as Music Camp’s counselor last year. It was unlikely. Mrs. De Vries was a former soprano, after all.

Amused by his memories of tormenting the musical witch across the lake Max flinched a full step back when something vaguely round was shaken in his face.

“Language, Max!” David reprimanded, waving a spoon at him. The playful spark in his eye wavered when the jaded preteen stepped back suddenly, but he didn’t try to say anything about it. “You’ve hardly eaten anything all week. At this rate you’ll never grow big and strong!”

Max dodged the counselor’s attempt to hand him the tray of potatoes, accidentally breathing through his teeth in a way that resembled a hissing sound. He only vaguely noticed Nerris and Harrison scuttle out the double doors with the rest of the campers. Looking up at David and eyeing his insufferable smile with disgust his expression darkened. “I’ve eaten enough of those shitty potatoes to be impressed with how horrific they taste. Seriously, how can something that tastes like sand be both watery _and_ dry _at the same time.”_

“Now Max,” David began, “The quartermaster does his best to make sure every camper here at Camp Campbell gets what they need to—”

“Pft! His _best?_ His _worst_ must be a fucking _bioweapon_ then,” Max spat, gesturing angrily to the sketchy chef who stood looking out the kitchen window with his hook hand up next to his face, as if to remind Max it was there. Max had never been great at shutting up when he needed to, though. “Seriously, what war did you pull this guy from, David?”

As David gasped loudly, Quartermaster emerged from the kitchen. He responded gruffly on his way out of the mess hall, “World War III.”

While Max and David both paused to stare after him Gwen came up and tried to usher Max back to a table. He allowed it only because he thought she’d try to grab him if he didn’t.

“Seriously, Max,” she said, “You really need to eat more. You don’t get to go home early just because you’re a picky eater.” Of course he didn’t, no-one actually cared if he starved to death. Otherwise he wouldn’t be the only one doing all the grocery shopping every week.

The tired ten-year-old hated both his counselors equally, just like he did everyone else, but Gwen being more reasonable of the two made her much easier to deal with.

 _She_ could at least strike a bargain.

“What are you idiots on about?” he snarled viciously, dunking his hands into his hoodie. “Stop trying to pass this shit off as food, Gwen. I know you don’t eat it either.” Before she could retaliate he raised his head and glared at his counselors challengingly. “I’m only eating as much as I’m _used_ to eating at home,” he said, eyeing her up and down, “and unlike some people, I _stop_ eating when I’m full.”

Gwen was so peeved by his jab at her weight she forced him to sit there at eat _half_ of what he was served. His body wasn’t prepared to handle so much food at once— even if the serving size was technically already smaller than it was for the other campers —and so, several minutes of very painful stomach cramps and nausea later Max threw it all back up. The three of them pretended to ignore the watery fear in his wide green eyes after and they pretended not to notice when Max flinched away from Gwen or went out of his way to keep her from touching him in the days following.

In the end, Gwen bought him a new coffee maker for his tent.

And Max just kept trying to forgive her.

\-- **2** \--

Max had thought his night terrors had gotten better since he’d been shipped to the opposite side of the country by himself. He was taking less time to wake up in the morning and when he did, he felt almost rested. Of course, his insomnia was still a reoccurring issue but it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle that quietly.

Neil was a restless sleeper and the sound of shuffling sheets was loud in the ears of a boy who’s greatest comfort at night came from silence. More than once in the week since the Jewish kid had arrived Max had been thrown from nightmares.

Of course, the real cruelty of night terrors being night terrors was that Max couldn’t remember having them when he woke up.

“Hey, Max?” Neil asked over breakfast a full week since his arrival. He’d been poking at his potatoes all morning and kept glancing at Max like he had something he wanted to say. His unease was founded, after all, Max took the longest of everyone to wake up even on a good day and his fuse was shorter during that time.

“Mh’hm?” Max hummed, sleepily sipping his second cup of coffee and mostly ignoring his own breakfast. He’d started eating a little bit more at meals, fearing a repeat event despite how many times he was assured there wouldn’t be one.

“Do you, uh,” the pale boy began uncertainly, looking around like he was worried someone would overhear. Prepared for some devious mischief, Max unconsciously leaned in a little closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” his friend asked, voice low.

Bewildered, Max reset his posture and raised an eyebrow at Neil.

“I–I mean you don’t have to, obviously, I just was thinking maybe t-talking about it would help or something. Not that I’m a psychologist, haha. Ob-obviously not. I mean what do I know anyway? Yeah, yeah. You’re right, of course, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. Let’s just forget anything ever happened, hahaha.”

Max’s expression must have gotten more intimidating to Neil as he continued talking because his voice became higher pitched and he spoke faster with every word. Nikki’s intervention, via the typical roar and the less typical mashed-potato projectile, at the end resulted in a squeaky squawk from Neil that was so funny Max couldn’t help but join Nikki in her laughter. He set aside a mental note to confront Neil later, assuming his behavior had something to do with the unfortunate end of yesterday’s adventure.

‘Later’, as it turned out, came two weeks tardy and in the dead of night.

Max was ripped from a dead sleep, screaming in terror and not knowing why. There was a crooked figure leaning over him, haloed by an orange light. Scared beyond reason at the sight of _Dadaji_ in the night, he threw up his arms to cover his head and felt one of his fists connect with something on their way. He hardly heard the girlish yelp or the crunch of rapidly retreating footsteps, instead only capable of curling up even tighter trying to protect the back of his head.

 _“Mujhe maaf kijiye,”_ he whispered over and over, begging his grandfather for forgiveness. Motionless in his bed with his hands behind his ears, Max expected to feel the first blow at any second and the longer nothing happened the more panicked he became. It was like he’d woken up in the midst of a fight or flight response again. Last time this had happened and he’d lashed out; _Dadaji_ had hauled Max outside by his hair, stripped him, whipped him with a switch a few times, and made Max spend the rest of the night in the yard holding his ears through his legs. And of course _Dadaji_ had still sent him to school the next day.

When Grandfather was there, Max had to keep his grades if he wanted to eat. It went without saying that it was easier when he was alone. 

His _dadaji,_ his grandfather, was probably the only person in Max’s life he genuinely couldn’t break. That made him scarier than either of his parents, loathe as he was to admit it.

And if he couldn’t break David then…

_“–mujhe maaf kijiye, Dadaji–”_

“Max?!” David’s voice broke him out of his chant, “Hey, hey, come on, talk to me buddy. What’s going on? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Let me take a look–”

Glad that his grandfather wasn’t there, Max was still confused and disoriented when he felt David’s hand on his head. At first too panicked to remember the English word for ‘no’ he gasped _“nahin!”_ and cringed away from David’s presence. Thankfully, the normally imperceptive ginger backed off.

 _1,000, 997, 994, 991…_ In his head, Max started counting. It was for reasons like this that he also preferred to be alone.

“The fuck are you idiots looking at,” he snarled when he finally felt calm enough to open his eyes and turn a stormy glower on his observers: David and Neil.

Neil shifted his eyes to their counselor but David didn’t meet them. Instead, he stared at Max.

“Max,” the man said slowly, carefully, “what happened? Did you have a bad dream?” That patronizing comment made Max bristle.

“I think it was a night terror,” Neil cut in before Max could go for David’s throat. His tentmate looked like he wanted to say more and Max was suddenly drawn to the odd things he’d said several weeks prior. It was safe to say then that Neil had already discovered this about Max.

As if this night needed to be made worse, recognition lit up in David’s eyes.

“Neil could you leave us alone for a moment?”

“Oh, _hell_ no, camp man!” Max was on his feet and out of the tent before the man could finish. He needed to use the bathroom. There was no way he’d willingly set this weakness down in front of his overly empathetic, jovial, exhaustingly emotional counselor.

“Max, just wait a second, please!”

He couldn’t let David know any more than he already did. He wouldn’t give him the chance to hurt him.

“Max—!”

Max was going to be _safe_ here. He was going to _make himself safe_ – protect himself –like he did everywhere else.

He _had_ to break David before _David_ broke _him._

\-- **3** \--

Max hardly noticed himself doing it anymore. Slipping food into his hoodie pocket to save for later had become second nature. The large kangaroo pouch made them ideal for this purpose– among others.

The necessity for hoarding food was null at camp Campbell and Max understood how avaricious the habit was at times, especially when one counted the number of pudding cups he’d saved up. But he needed to keep his skills as a pickpocket sharp over the summer.

Eventually, the amount of food he had building up in the cheap trunk at the end of his cot started to worry him. So sharing his stash with Neil and Nikki came as a relief. If _Dadaji_ were here he would have made him eat all of it in one sitting. And unlike Gwen, _he_ didn’t care if, or even how many times, Max threw up.

The young boy’s permanent scowl darkened at the reminder.

At home he had multiple hiding places he used to stash food for winter, when New York became too cold for his arthritic _D_ _adaji_ and he moved back to his second home in India, leaving Max alone. Actually, as Max got older, the man spent less and less time at home, preferring to live in India year-round. He’d only seen the man once this year and only for a month. Then Max was shipped off to camp. Alone, because according to his parents he was responsible enough to keep himself out of trouble when it suited him.

They all knew a lot of things could happen on four greyhound buses in four days. Usually, Max was the most intimidating person on those buses so it suited him fine. It wasn’t as if any of it was new. 

Opening the trunk and eyeing the inviting darkness Max looked around before climbing inside and shutting the lid. The boy curled up on a flattened duffle bag, filled with only the very basic necessities, and reached for his last protein bar. Today’s lunch had been ham and potatoes and while going hungry wasn’t atypical for him, trying to keep up with Nikki on an empty stomach was. He actually had to start eating more at meals now.

Chewing carefully Max allowed himself to enjoy a moment of peace while he ate. Ever since Neil – the scared, spineless idiot – had effectively tattled on him about his night-terrors he hadn’t been able to sleep right. Finishing his meal with a yawn and an unsatisfied roar from his stomach Max reluctantly reached for one of those nastier, raisin filled granola bars he’d nicked from David’s stash. More so than the taste, he hated how _noisy_ the wrappers were. Even when he knew no-one was looking for him he wanted to stay properly hidden.

Max was so focused on unpeeling his morsel he didn’t hear the quiet approach. His irritated cussing masked the calling of his name. So when the lid above him was raised and a familiar ginger head poked in the boy just about pissed himself.

“ _SHIT!”_

Luckily he was saved total humiliation when David yelped just as loudly and flinched back, almost dropping the lid.

“Max!” he cried once recovered, leaning forward as if he were about to scoop the child up. He stopped when Max jerked back, pressing himself into the farthest corner with metaphoric hackles raised. “Language. We’ve been looking all over for you! Is this where you’ve been…?” he asked, trailing off. The counselor took in the food Max had hoarded and blinked at the sight of one of his granola bars clutched in the boy’s hand.

Before David could say anything Max took defense, the boy clearly swallowing his fear to do so.

“What the fuck are you doing you fucking moron?!” he demanded as he pulled himself out of his corner. “Make me choke to death?” He continued his invective until the camp counselor looked suitably horrified.

Max didn’t know it, of course, but from David’s perspective this situation was akin to finding a feral cat in a sock drawer.

“Is this why you haven’t been eating? You’ve been hiding food?” he asked slowly, picking up a pudding cup and looking at it as if he didn’t recognize it.

“Fuck off,” Max snarled, snatching it back. He set it with the others and clambered out the trunk, slamming it shut behind him. The boy even went so far as to lock it right in front of his surprised counselor. “This is all mine, you man-whore! I didn’t steal jack shit!”

The camp trunks didn’t come with locks. Max had brought his own.

He glared meaningfully at David, daring him to say something about it. The chipper man furrowed his brow with concern, either too oblivious or stubborn to notice Max’s very obvious threat.

“Max, you know you don’t have to steal food here, don’t you? I mean, sure, maybe it’s not great,” David chuckled and puffed up his chest a little, “it’s not the cheese cake factory!” At the surely murderous look on Max’s face he quickly swallowed his amusement and plowed onwards. “If you were really so hungry Max I’d have been happy to share my snacks with you,” he trailed off and Max paled, realizing he _had_ been caught stealing. A shiver ran down his spine before he could do anything about it.

“I’d rather eat rat poison than ask you for anything, _David,_ ” Max spat viciously and brushed past. In his dismissal he missed the look on the man’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stats tell me nothing!! Comment with an 'O' if I should continue and an 'X' if not.
> 
> If I don't get any feedback I'll assume people aren't interested. And that's Ok! I won't stop writing. I simply won't publish the completed version of the fic. No point publishing if I'm the only one reading. :)
> 
> Edit: For those who are interested short previews to upcoming chapters, and pieces written for this fic that I felt didn't make the final cut, are posted on my tumblr: ccObservations  
> Thanks so much for all the support so far. Glad that everyone has been enjoying it!


	2. The Second Five

\-- **1** \--

Max hated a lot of different things but his insomnia was definitely in the top five. He had no phone to keep track of time and, after using the last one in a glitter and confetti bomb, he was no longer allowed to have either a digital _or_ an analog clock. So it was impossible to tell how much sleep he was getting at night without accounting for the number of times he woke up and it was sometimes a little too hard to remember that.

“Hi, Max!” Nikki shouted in his ear, “Are you ready for another day of wacky adventures? I suggested we turn the mess hall into a cryptic zoo but Neil says cryptics aren’t real.” The girl had a thoughtful hand on her chin and her brows furrowed.

“Crypt _id_ s, Nikki. And we’ve already talked about the impracticality of their supposed ecophysiological characteristics in _any_ kind of niche.” Desperate to be understood, Neil threw his arms out wide to encompass the forest around camp. “The Chupacabra isn’t out there, Nikki! It doesn’t exist!”

Max yawned and sipped idly at his coffee. This sounded like a conversation that had been going on for a while.

“Come on, Max, help me out here!” Neil began whining until he noticed the mug in his friend’s hand. “Hey, how many cups of coffee have you had today?”

“I don’t know,” Max shrugged, eyeing the black liquid and taking another sip. “Like six?”

“Jesus! How are you still so tired?”

He just shrugged again. For a while he joined his friends in their mischief, feeding their shenanigans like dribbling lighter fluid over a fire. But just a few hours in he started flagging so he took his leave and set up somewhere he could watch without risk of becoming collateral.

Nikki had asked Neil to make some cryptids for them, eventually snaring Harrison and Nerris in their game. It was fun to sit back on his lawn chair and watch chaos unfold around his friends from a safe distance while they duct taped the platypus to an opossum.

He must have nodded off at some point, though, because when he woke up it was to David’s terrorized scream-crying and Gwen’s angry but mostly pointless yelling. Trying and failing to shrug off his sleepiness he slipped his fingers under his sunglasses to rub at his eyes.

 _How long have I been asleep for?_ he wondered. The Indian boy didn’t feel very rested…

Looking around he quickly discovered what all the screaming was about.

Somehow, Neil and the others had _actually_ given life to something and now a ubiquitous green blob was rolling around the camp eating everything organic in its path. Max squinted, watching the ever growing thing fatten around a poor squirrel before rolling over a few new saplings David had made them plant. Everything it touched it seemed to absorb into itself and get bigger, even the grass.

As much as Max wanted to see just how big this thing could get – and if it were capable of eating people – he was already too annoyed and too tired to deal with the aftermath of that kind of chaos.

Rebuilding the camp _again_ was not going to be on his priority list today.

So instead he turned and walked over to grab the fire extinguisher from the mess hall.

When he came back the blob was looming over David and Nikki, both of whom had _very_ different reactions to their imminent doom. Irritated by all the noise Max put a quick end to it with a strong gust of non-flammable CO2. When the creature was properly subdued by the outdated and honestly rather questionable fire extinguisher Max set it down to observe the state of the camp.

While the others regained their bearings, the Quartermaster collected the now frozen blob with a grumbled comment about the universe and walked off to do… _something_ …with it…

“Max!” David gasped shrilly, stars in his eyes, “you _saved_ me!”

Almost even before the man had finished Max had lifted the fire extinguisher and blasted him in the face. Most of the other campers were smart enough to steer clear of Max when he was abruptly torn from a much needed nap. But David never paid enough attention to details like that.

 _“Okay!”_ Gwen snatched the weapon from him before he could do any permanent damage to his peppy counselor. “That’s enough of that.” Realizing his sunglasses were still on Max pocketed them and scowled at the woman as she began herding the rest of the campers to the mess hall.

Nikki bound to his side enthusiastically, regaling him with a dramatic retelling as the trio trailed behind Gwen’s herd. When she was done and Max had learned nothing coherent about what had actually happened he turned his aloof stare onto Neil.

“I seriously can’t believe that six cups of coffee and the incredibly destructive formation of artificial _life_ wasn’t enough to keep you awake. You’ve got issues, Max.”

“Neil, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this. But I am _always_ tired,” Max snipped back condescendingly. He hadn’t realized David was listening in. Even if he had, though, he likely wouldn’t have cared.

\-- **2** \--

Max couldn’t help but regard David a little differently after he’d accidentally slapped Nurf. The revelation that sometimes hitting kids was the only way to teach them had cast a strange new light on some of the things he’d experienced. Max already knew his family wasn’t normal. Their wealth alone was a testament to that. Up until recently, he’d been a bit suspicious about their approach to discipline and the claim that it was “normal” and they were “going easy on him” because they didn’t leave any scars. Well, mostly.

But now he was having second thoughts. He wasn’t sure who he could talk to about it. Adding to his concerns was how often David seemed to be disappearing lately. More and more Gwen was taking up the nightly rotations to make sure all the campers (Max, Nikki, and Neil) were still in their tents.

If he thought there was something interesting going on there Max would’ve pursued it. But he’d already learned that David was the least interesting person at Camp Campbell and he had no intention of listening to any more farmers almanacs. Sometimes when it was quiet Max could almost _still hear it._

Besides, he wasn’t worried about David trying to kill him anymore.

He had other things on his mind.

“Hey, Neil.” Max gave his tentmate’s bed a firm kick to wake it’s occupant up.

“Mfwah?” the boy muttered, squinting up at him. “Max?”

With a huff Max handed him his glasses. Yawning, Neil sat up and gratefully accepted them. He ducked a finger under the lenses to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“What’s going on? I thought we were setting the canoes on fire tomorrow night.”

“We are,” Max answered and looked away with a scowl, “This is about something else.”

Neil seemed to perk up for some reason. “Is it your nightmares?”

“No, not–” Max grimaced. He didn’t really like sharing them but even he could admit talking about them helped sometimes. “–not this time.”

Neil looked at him for a moment before he replied. “Ok, hold on a sec.” Then he leaned over and fished something out from under his cot. Shortly after there was an electric lantern gently illuminating their tent. Max glowered at it and Neil adjusted his glasses. “What’s up?”

Uncomfortable, Max tugged at his shirt. “Listen man, don’t look too deeply into this. Ok? But, uh.” The irascible Indian cursed under breath. How the fuck was he supposed to ask someone how normal abuse was? Was corporeal punishment still a big thing? It had to be, right? No one but _Dadaji_ and Yoselyn got _really_ physical with him. And Max’s parents were more emotionally manipulative than physically abusive– aside from the occasional well-deserved smack or two when they were paying attention.

Even if it wasn’t normal, Max wasn’t exactly a kid you could just put in time out. He was bad. Maybe this is how he _should_ be raised. No-one could hurt you if you didn’t care about anyone and no-one could take anything away from you if you were used to having nothing.

 _Yes, that’s it,_ Max decided.

His family’s teachings had made him untouchable.

Normal or abnormal, it was better that he was used to it.

“Max…?” Neil prompted when he hadn’t said anything.

“Fuck it. Never mind. Don’t worry about it. Just go back to sleep.” Max crawled back into bed and turned over so he was facing away from his tentmate.

“Are you–”

“–Yes Neil. I’m sure.”

\-- **3** \--

Max tried to keep a close eye on David. It was tough in a way that made him long for a cigarette or two to keep up the ‘everything-is-fine’ façade at home. Nicotine withdrawal could be an absolute bitch but at least it gave Max something other than hunger to focus on during the cold winter months.

As time went on and nothing happened, though, he started to let his guard down. Life at camp continued just as it had before.

Until the bonfire incident.

David, Max had since decided, was a strange man.

He was annoying. He was loud. He was the only true Pollyanna Max had ever met.

And he was the first person since Araceli, the maid his parents fired when he was seven, to care about him selflessly.

Max was used to looking after himself. Just him. And that’d been how he liked it.

But then there’d been the worst flash storm of the season, an unstable tower of wet wood, and words Max had never heard before.

 _“That’s why I’ll never stop trying. Because somebody_ fucking _has to.”_ There was more steel in David’s eyes than the striker in his hand when he turned back to his futile task. But the set of his shoulders still looked defeated and miserable.

It was then that Max had realized he’d finally done it.

He’d broken David.

And it _hadn’t_ made him feel any safer.

So when the precarious tower of wood fell on the man Max had done the unexpected and leapt into action, blood pulsing in his ears and blasting hot through his veins. It was as he was pushing the logs off his crumpled form and slapping David in the face that the rain started abating. But the boy was too distracted with heaving his lanky counselor away from the mess to notice. When he felt he had him a safe enough distance away, and couldn’t possibly move him any farther, he sat down in the muddy grass with a huff.

“Fucking idiot.” Hands trembling with exertion probed the bleeding bump on David’s head. Max felt fairly well versed when it came to head injuries but he was usually on the receiving end of them and none had been particularly severe. “You better wake up soon, asshole.” Fetching some supplies from the counselor’s cabin Max applied some basic first aid to control the bleeding, cussing all the while about head injuries.

“David,” Max called, kicking him in the side. He did it a few more times until the man groaned and shifted away. Scoffing but quietly relieved, he left to go tell Gwen off for leaving him alone to “look after” the camp man-baby.

What followed was an exhausting lesson in Indian formal wear, the construction of _sherwani_ scarves, _dhotis_ , _saris_ , and more. With Max at the helm restricting designs, harshly guiding creativity, and scavenging for passable parts while Gwen helped the others sew what needed sewing, this was all done quickly. Max would never admit it, but wrapping the _pagaris_ had been his favorite part.

The bonus of all of this was that, at least for now, he didn’t owe David for keeping him fed and sheltered. He felt better knowing that.

\-- **4** \--

The reprieve didn’t last long but it was nice while it did. Maybe it was because of Gwen more than David but the camp was activity free for almost three days.

Which meant Max didn’t have to be forced, or to force himself, to participate in anything.

David’s head injury probably had something to do with that.

It was a luxury Max sort of regretted when they spent an entire afternoon doing three activities at once.

He wondered if it was worth it to give himself a concussion too…

\-- **5** \--

It was a long, full day on the lake when the summer heat peaked that year.

While it was still cool enough for _some_ exercise, unbearable as it had been anyway, David had dragged the campers out for a very pointless, very boring, very _tiresome_ canoeing around the lake. After lunch, Gwen had herded everyone out for a swim. Even Neil was apparently appreciative of the relief provided by the freezing water.

Sweating under his hoodie and seated at the very end of the dock, still reluctantly in Gwen’s short periphery, Max kept himself as removed as he could be from the watery sprays. David had been left in the cabin to take some stupid test for an online class. It was probably for something stupid, like tree identification

The boy spent a fair chunk of the afternoon drifting in and out with a book on his chest, sedated by the heat.

“–ax? Max! Wake up!” A wet hand slapped him in the face and he came to with an undignified flail.

“’the fuck, Nikki?” he demanded, squinting up at her when he realized he wasn’t in immediate danger.

She grabbed his hand and tried dragging him to the end of the dock. “Hurry up and get in the water with us already!”

“Hell no!” Max pulled back.

“Seriously Max. You’re going to get heatstroke. At least take off your hoodie.” Neil was hanging off the side of the dock. He muttered something about the water possibly having sewage in it but still being better than nothing.

Max knew how to handle heat and was about to roll his eyes when there was a shout from farther out. All three turned to watch Nurf throw a puck at the makeshift hoop David had made with some rope, wood, and pool floaties. The boy attempted to give himself a running go at it but slipped on the dock and sent the puck flying.

They all watched it bounce off the backboard, skip across the water once, slide up Dolph’s boogie board, soar over Gwen’s head, and shoot straight for Harrison. Kudos to the boy for having such a quick reaction time, the magician threw out his hands and Max watched the stupid puck _gain_ just enough height to pass harmlessly over his head and hurtle even faster in Ered’s direction on the other dock. Ered’s response was to slap it away with her stupid pointless surfboard.

There was only enough time to be confused about the puck shaped object in his periphery. Then Max felt his head jerk violently to the side and white-hot pain explode from the impact before everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I'm so happy to see so many people enjoying this. :) Please keep those X's and O's coming for me. I need to know that people are still interested after this chapter. 
> 
> I'll be updating once a week, every Sunday from here on. 
> 
> I haven't responded to any comments but I'll work on that as soon as I can.
> 
> PS: If your comment is just an 'o' or an 'x' and nothing else, that's cool! It's really helpful! But I don't think the people leaving those comments actually expect a reply so if you've left a comment like that and I don't reply, that's why.


	3. The Third Four

\-- **1** \--

Max returned to the world of the living slowly, enticed by the smell of fresh coffee and cedar.

Still sleepy and unwilling to address the pain working its way through his head, Max turned and cuddled into his bed. He nuzzled something cool and reached out to draw it in closer with a little unconscious grunt of satisfaction. There was a sound like low laughter that he overlooked due to how distant it sounded. Perhaps it was the gardeners.

It must have been hot the day before because he could still feel the heat on his skin and hear the faint buzzing of summer insects.

He felt Araceli’s hands pushing back his hair with cool fingers, listening as she hummed a song he hadn’t heard her sing before. Max always loved it when she came to the house. She always took time out of cleaning to play with him when he was younger.

Her fingers combed through his hair, wiping it off his sweaty face and he leaned into the touch gratefully.

Holding the puffy curls off the back of his neck Araceli muttered what Max assumed was a quiet expletive in a strange voice, clearly upset about the cigarette burns Yoselyn hid there. His babysitter was smart enough to layer them in her favorite hiding place, as opposed to spreading them out and making them easier to find. And there were more around the middle of his back from that time he’d had a tantrum about something and had refused to move.

Slowly, the world around him was coming back together and, with it, a migraine.

A bad one.

Then there were strange whispers above him and movement around him that shifted Max out of place. A thumb fell across the tight, overlapping circles of sensitive scar tissue at the back of his neck and he twisted away from the touch. He hissed in a deep breath between his teeth and turned to bury his head further. Nuzzling his face against his pillow the boy settled in with a huge sigh of relief. He drifted off again.

\-- **2** \--

“…x?”

Max wrinkled his nose and scrunched his eyes. Someone was running gentle fingers through his hair.

“–Hey.”

The noise was getting louder, like it was coming from the behind the door. Max turned his head down with a small noise of complaint, snuggling into the soft, warm blankets.

“C’mon buddy, it’s time to wake up.” Suddenly, the voice was right on top of him, like Max’s ears had just popped. He groaned.

“I know, bud. But you gotta wake up again, just for a bit. Then you can go back to sleep, ok?”

Max could _hear_ the smile in David’s voice and for a moment, his resentment of the man almost provided enough pain relief to set him in motion. Instead he opened his eyes to warn David off with one of his more unnerving glares.

What the ten year old had been expecting to see was not what was there. Although David was indeed staring down at him it wasn’t from the side of the bed. No, David was _on the bed_ with him and _Max_ was just short of curled up on top of him. _Hell,_ what he’d thought was a pillow was actually his counselor’s _stomach._

“Oh, good! You’re awake!” David chirped at the boy, stars shining in his eyes. Actually, they weren’t just in his eyes. “You must have been feeling pretty bad, to have latched onto _me_ in your sleep.”

Was Max’s vision going red? Stars were still winking in and out around him. His brain felt like it was being compressed, burning in his skull at the same time.

Head injuries always sucked but none he’d ever had before sucked as much as this entire situation.

“Max? You still with me?” David’s smile quickly morphed into a concerned frown, “You got hit pretty hard today. I think Gwen said Nurf knocked you out with a puck? Or was it Ered. Maybe Harrison? The explanation was all very confusing.”

David was too stupid to think about what this looked like, he was too stupid to be a pedophile anyway. But Max realized someone had taken his hoodie and he _needed_ that because without it–

“-ax, are you ok?” David asked but didn’t wait for a response before he went on to mutter something about overheating. Max sat up, intense eyes on the counselor’s face. Then David started to reach for him.

For a moment, it wasn’t David Max saw.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Max snarled, quickly pushing himself out of arms reach. Frantically he reminded himself that this was _David_ and that he was _sort of_ ok–

The room spun and a harsh bolt of pain lanced through the side of his head, cutting down his focus. But, looking at the horror on his counselor’s face, Max managed to backtrack. “I mean, what the fuck is going on? What are you trying to do to me?” he barked a little louder than necessary, hoping to smother his earlier fear with it.

“I wanted to make you feel better and it just seemed like you were comfier when I was in bed with you,” David claimed innocently. He set his phone back on the nightstand with a wad of paperwork that, presumably, had something to do with his weird classes. Glancing at it, Max read something about an “adopter.” Or maybe it was “adapter?”

Max’s eyes fell from the papers to the icepack crammed against his counselor’s side, where he’d been so comfortable just a moment ago…

Shaking himself, the child opened his mouth and lurched to his feet on the mattress, intending to demand why that meant David had to _cuddle_ him. But then the ground swept dizzyingly out from under him and a merciless strike of pain stopped him before he could start.

“A-ah!” he whined, caught by surprise.

“Nikki, now!” The door was suddenly kicked in, startling both occupants as a familiar red and yellow figure shot into the room with a loud war cry.

“Wha– Nikki?! Neil?! What are you–”

“Take that, you pervert!” Neil shouted, throwing a paint bomb at David’s face while Nikki forcibly dragged Max out of the cabin.

“Hey, wait a second! Be more careful with Max, he jus– _eep!”_

_Puh-boof!_

Max had just enough time to observe the beautiful effect of fine, colored powder splattering the inside of the cabin. Vibrant plumes breathed out through the open windows as he watched.

He grinned, eagerly accepting the hoodie Neil handed to him when the boys managed to convince Nikki to put him down and when Max managed to stand up straight without help.

At least now he had an excuse to take it easy for a few days.

\-- **3** \--

It was the middle of the night when Max felt a hand on the vulnerable inside of his elbow and woke up to find the Quartermaster trying to steal his blood again. He responded with a choked scream of surprise and proceeded to beat the man with a flashlight until half the camp was awake. The counselors tried ineffectually to both control the situation and understand how it came to be.

Max was honestly surprised to see Gwen awake before eight.

Quartermaster was uncomfortably forthcoming with his answers and yet _still_ managed to explain absolutely nothing. He said something like “the loam needs fresh blood from a _rakshasa_ ” or whatever and Max was more than happy to take a little step back for that. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called a _rakshasa_.

David, at least, was clearly as unnerved as the rest of them, carefully escorting the old man away.

At Gwen’s _“ok, shows over. Go back to bed, you little devils,”_ Max and Neil trudged back to their tent where Max wriggled into his hoodie and fell into a restless sleep three and a half hours later.

Neil must have been quiet when he woke up the next morning because Max remained blissfully undisturbed. He was in that weird limbo state between awake and asleep when David tumbled into the tent in search of him. Thankfully the man had learned that Max did _not_ take kindly to his explosive energy first thing in the morning and became markedly quieter when he realized the boy was still in bed.

There was a strange, awkward pause before he spoke that Max was too tired to care about, much less open his eyes for.

“Max? Max. It’s time to wake up now.” David’s voice was surprisingly gentle, fond in a way Max hadn’t heard anyone address him with before.

The rebellious hellion growled and grumbled sleepily, fuse already precariously short. He received a careful pat to the shoulder in response.

“Now, now. Don’t be that way. I know you’re tired but I’ve brought coffee.”

Max rolled over and eyed the cup in his counselor’s hand. He flicked his eyes up to David’s face and squinted at him. “Black?” he asked, voice weighted with an unspoken threat.

The ginger’s smile became a touch more strained as he nodded, clearly swallowing his disapproval, and handed Max his precious caffeine.

Neil often asked him why he didn’t just down some caffeine tablets. When told they were harder to find (and steal) the boy did that thing where he implied Max was stupid for not knowing how to make his own.

And that led to the ‘cooking crystal meth’ incident that Max had so enjoyed. Tormenting Sheriff Sal was almost more fun than tormenting David.

Too sleepy to really care he sipped at his coffee while David brought his sneakers to him, apparently not done being overdramatic about Max’s minor head injury. Most of the time Max hated any attention to his health, or more accurately, lack of. But sometimes, rarely, it was ok.

So long as it was David. Maybe. It was really situation dependent. It wasn’t like Max felt _safe_ with David around or anything. Max definitely still hated him. Absolutely. Shut up.

It was only because Max had pushed just about every button the Pollyanna had and David _still_ hadn’t starved, beaten, or ignored him.

A furrow appeared on his counselor’s brow when he noticed what Max was wearing. Or rather, what he was still wearing.

“Did you sleep in your clothes?”

“Mh’hm.” The boy slipped into his shoes and lazily let David tie the laces, still busy trying to wake up. “Don’t have p…” Max blinked, rooting around his head for the word and coming up frustratingly blank. “Pay…” Oh lord his brain needed a hard reset. It was a _hindi_ word for fucks sake! “Fuck. What are those things you wear to bed at night called again?” Max wrinkled his nose and willfully missed the concern on David’s face.

“Language. And do you mean pajamas?” he asked and carefully pressed one hand to the boy’s forehead, checking both his pupils for the hundredth time in the last two days. “Are you feeling ok?” he asked, speaking over Max’s mumbled “ _oh yeah.”_

“What? I forget just one word seconds after waking up and I’m sick all of a sudden?”

David blinked owlishly at him, “Well, no–?”

“Then what’s your problem?” Max had made short work of his coffee but was still too tired to give David the time of day – not that he ever _wasn’t. ~~~~_

“Damn,” he muttered softly to himself before leaving the tent at what felt like a brisk walk, his worried counselor trailing close behind. “I need more coffee.”

\-- **4** \--

He was the last kid in the mess hall for lunch that day, having fallen asleep in his favorite hiding place; underneath a huge woodwardia fern by the lake.

Fuck, all he wanted to do was sleep forever.

This complete loss of functionality spoke of more than just a lack of sleep and a healing head injury, Max knew, but didn’t ask the Quartermaster for more of the slop he was expecting. Instead he was thinking about who he could knick some real food from. If he had to he could always pick the fancy lock Campbell kept his secret stash behind again. He was spared the need when the sketchy, bearded man muttered something that sounded like an insincere apology and passed him a side dish of chapati.

Max squinted at it, then looked at the man suspiciously. Quartermaster gave nothing away and simply stared back. So, struck with a realization, Max turned to David; who immediately noticed he was being watched and threw him a big smile and an enthusiastic thumbs up. Irritated but no less tired and hungry he flipped the gregarious man off and joined his friends at their table.

He traded his potatoes for Nikki’s box of raisins but kept the bread, eating slowly.

“Dude, you really need to stop giving Nikki your portions,” Neil said as he waited for him to finish his chapati.

“What! Why? I like eating Max’s food,” Nikki demanded, jumping up in her seat like she’d just been insulted.

Max sneered at him halfheartedly. “I’m doing us all a favor, idiot. And besides; I don’t see you offering to be the table waste bin.”

“Yeah!” As always, the insult flew right over Nikki’s head. Or maybe she knew Max was just teasing.

Neil was far from phased by both of them at this point, handing Max his own box of raisins after watching him pop open Nikki’s and down it in one. “Look, all I’m saying is you should stop trying to feed us and start feeding yourself. You’re never on time for breakfast in the morning, you barely touch lunch, and you always complain that dinner isn’t spicy enough. Seriously, you need it more than we do, Max.”

“Jesus Neil, you’re acting like David. Helicopter Parent much?” The older boy huffed and crossed his arms but didn’t push the issue.

Max was late to more than just the usual handful of activities throughout the remainder of the week and for the most part, no-one bothered him about it. There was the usual teasing on occasion but he was too apathetic to really care. 

He did start to get really sick of David’s mothering by Saturday, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just so blown away by how many people are enjoying this fic! Thank you all so, so much!
> 
> Please keep the 'o's and 'x's coming. I've decided to start really replying to the reviews post chapter 4 or 5. I have been reading them, though, and they always make me smile - especially on my bad days.
> 
> I'll see everyone next Sunday! Chapter 4 is probably the toughest one yet for David and Max. Stay safe, everyone!


	4. The Fourth Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i really hate these chapter titles

\-- **1** \--

_"–ɟnɔkᴉuƃ pɐɹɐsᴉʇǝ!"_

_"–sɥonld hɐʌǝ jnsʇ ɐqoɹʇǝd ᴉʇ–"_

_“Grhh! What is wrong with you today, Max? Why would you do something like that!!”_

It was another sleepless night for Max, and, rather than be awake in bed, he’d decided to be awake down by the lake.

Of course, once he got there, the ten-year-old found his curiosity tempted by the view off the end of the camp’s perfidious dock. It was quiet in a way it’d never been that summer. Standing there in the dark after hours Max looked around, swallowed his nerves, and trudged on.

He lived in New York City and Queens was _never_ so calm.

Too cautious of the water to risk hanging his feet off the end he instead folded his legs in and sat butterfly style. He stayed that way until his legs went numb and even after that, admiring the stars and taking comfort in his solitude. The darkness provided by the new moon was warm and comfortable, the water was calm, and the sound of it sloshing placidly against the dock was surprisingly soothing. Lake Lilac’s surface was so smooth it mirrored the constellations. It would have been a perfect reflection if not for the occasional ripple.

Max had never seen so many stars before in his life and he’d never thought about them either, never imagined what he could be missing. Above him they glittered playfully amidst astronomical clouds of color, cast in a supernal glow all their own.

It was peaceful, he concluded, even if the absence of city nightlife was still a little disquieting. He found himself wishing they had this back home, no matter that it’s shores wouldn’t be any safer than the beaches at this hour. The ocean was always too busy, too turbulent, and even Max didn’t like wandering around the city by himself at night.

Come to think of it, even if there was a lake, there wouldn’t be any stars. Not like this, anyway.

With a contented sigh he felt his body sag like an old house on the skeletons of its last weight-bearing columns. He wasn’t worried about being caught, though he probably should have remembered that David was a freak of nature with no concept of personal space before relaxing.

The sound of boots plodding towards him broke Max out of the sleepy daze he’d fallen into.

“Hey, Max,” David greeted quietly, inviting himself to sit next to the inimical camper.

_ “What is wrong with you–” _

Max scoffed at him in response, disgusted with the man’s persistent presence and definitely not worried about his lackluster greeting.

Most would assume the red head was just tired. But Max knew better.

David was never tired.

Ever.

He was never quiet either.

Yet, there they were, soaking up a tense silence together.

“How’d your stupid camp counselor review go, asshole.” Max really hadn’t meant to fuck it up. The dumb flame-thrower wasn’t supposed to work. Not that David would ever know.

His counselor gave a deeply grieved sigh that made the Indian boy’s skin crawl. The exhausted disappointment around them was fucking palpable. He wished David would just tell him off, maybe throw in a smack or two, and leave like everyone else.

Max wanted to be alone. He was better off that way.

It wasn’t like he’d miss David or anything.

“My SAF and CCP certifications might get revoked. Sal said he’d try to help but he can’t do much without Mr. Campbell. I-I might lose my job. I might–” David’s voice was tight and broken. He was obviously trying not to cry.

_Pathetic._

The boy tried to hide a flinch and chose to focus on the first part of what he was just told. Those were forestry and childcare certifications, weren’t they? Would losing those mean he’d be kicked out of whatever those ‘FPT adapter summer classes’ were about?

 _Shit._ Subconsciously he started easing himself away from David.

_“Why would you do something like that!!”_

_“Why ʍonld you do someʇɥᴉuƃ lᴉkǝ ʇɥɐʇ!!”_

_“Wɥʎ ʍonld ʎou do soɯǝʇɥᴉuƃ lᴉkǝ ʇɥɐʇ!!”_

Max felt his heart hammering against his ribs and he fought hard to control his breathing. But then his ears started to ring.

_“–fucking parasite!”_

_“–should have just aborted it–”_

“Max. I know I already asked earlier, but,” David’s quiet voice cut through the noise in his head and the world turned to focus on him, “Why would you do something like that?”

The boy couldn’t have stopped himself from trying to backpedal into the lake even if he’d tried, consumed by a terror that brought him back home to _Dadaji_ and an incident with the tub _._ His horror reached a new heart-stopping height when he found himself falling away from the dock, arm and shoulder already submerged where he futilely tried to brace himself against the glassy surface. Horrified teal eyes met with his counselor’s just before the water closed over Max’s head.

Max knew in that femtosecond there would be no going back after this.

The short moment his head spent in the lake lasted longer than it had any right to, given the memory it dunked him in. It filled his mouth and nose and it _burned_ his sinuses like ocean water.

Everything was dark but he could see flickers of light through his eyelids. Just beyond them would be the fluorescent lanterns mounted artfully along the walls. They’d be illuminating the fifth guest bathroom with a cold glow so bright no shadows could hide in it, no uncleaned blemish unnoticed. Behind his eyes he knew there would be: white marble walls, a white marble floor, and organic white cotton towels; there would be a matte black sink and bergamot scented gels; a labrazel pump shattered across the floor, and his grandfather _holding him under the bath water—!_

Then there was a firm hand wrapped around his forearm hauling him back onto the dock. A strange voice, distinctly not _Dadaji’s,_ was shouting in the boy’s ear.

“Are you ok?! Oh gosh, I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to scare you. Max? Max!”

The boy couldn’t answer, too busy with his uncontrollable coughing. Fighting for air with seizing lungs and water burning in his nose he flailed in a blind attempt to free himself. He wanted to scream when huge hands lifted him off the ground by his shoulders. Gasping pathetically Max readied himself to be thrown, only to hiccup in surprise when he was set down on the grass just a dozen steps later.

“Max, Max! Come on, buddy. Listen,” David– _David, David, David,_ not _Dadaji, not him, not –_ was a lot stronger than he looked but he didn’t try to unhook the boy from his shirt. He tugged on Max’s wrist, pulling the child’s shivering fingers out of sopping black curls. Max couldn’t remember when he’d started yanking on his hair but he fought against the counselor in a bid to resume doing so, needing to ground himself on something.

David ducked his head lower and tried to meet his camper’s panicked gaze. “Listen to me,” he continued, voice loud and clear, “–Max, listen. I need you to breathe, ok? Breathe with me.”

Terrified, Max shook his head and pushed a hand against the man’s chest. “F-fuck you,” he gasped. David pinned Max’s hand where it was, already doing deep breathing exercises when he shot the boy a dry look.

“Now is not the time to be spiteful, Max.”

Max tried to glare at him but didn’t have the strength, all his energy focused on heaving in air. Scared, he tried again to do something to ground himself. This time, on his free hand, he clamped his teeth into the side of his index finger as hard as he could.

“No– Max, please, you’re hurting yourself!” David tried to grab his hand but was still pinning the other one to his chest. His effort only made Max scream in frustration and bite himself harder. “Max, stop!”

His hands and feet tingled and he was starting to wonder if it was possible to pass out and _then_ throw up. Would he wake up if he did? Would he _want_ to?

_Fuck, fuck, fuck! Am I dying? Am I really fucking dying this time?_

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and, ignoring David, began counting.

_1,000, 997, 994, 991, 988, 985…_

He was almost halfway to zero when he finally felt like he could open his eyes.

“You okay?” David asked, carefully reaching for the hand Max had been biting with a strange look on his face.

Belatedly, Max realized he had captured his counselor’s shirt in a white knuckled grip at some point during his panic attack. He took a shaky little step back when he realized he’d unconsciously tucked himself into David’s modest shadow.

Staring up at his counselor, it suddenly hit Max that he’d just had major episode in front of _David,_ who was possibly the _worst_ person to have a panic attack in front of.

That was scary.

That made him anxious.

And there was only one way Max knew how to cope with those emotions.

Anger.

Viciously the little Indian boy ripped himself from his grasp.

“No thanks to you!” he hissed, voice still a little anxiously pitched as he stepped back. His throat felt tight but he ignored it. “Wh–what were you trying to do?! _Drown_ me?!” David flinched at the accusation. “Fuck! What else are you o-out here for?!” The counselor opened his mouth but Max wouldn’t let him say anything. “You out here hiding bodies? Huh? I bet– I bet you’re Campbell’s mule, aren’t you!”

“Max, please–”

“Or did you just come out here to–to blame me? You r-really are the _worst_ counselor in history, David.” Glaring spitefully at the man still kneeling in the grass, he tried to take some bitter vindication out of his hurting gaze.

Max went to scratch furiously at an itch on his face before he realized he was crying. It dawned on him that he’d probably _been_ crying. “Fuck,” he whimpered, pressing his palms into his eyes like he could push them back far enough to stopper the tears through sheer force. His whole body trembled but he wasn’t sure if was because he was cold anymore. “Th-the fuck is-is-is w- _wrong_ with me?”

The next thing Max knew he’d been swept into David’s arms with an undignified yelp. Cold, wet, and tired, he struggled fruitlessly against the warm counselor’s chest.

“You’re right. I am a bad counselor. Here I am pinning _my_ problems on you when you were just being a kid,” David agreed, catching Max off-guard.

He was given a ginger squeeze, then released. Still a little shaky the boy looked at the watery expression on David’s face, unaware of the vulnerability in his own unnatural teal eyes.

“D-David?” _Shit._

“You’re right, Max,” David said again, almost sounding resigned. As though he’d realized how he sounded, he tried to be cheerful when he next spoke. “We can,” he paused to swallow, then started again. “We can call your mom and dad later this morning and have them pick you up a– A.S.A.P!”

He failed as miserably as he looked. There was no happiness in his stupid, dumb smile, only defeat. Something about that made Max angrier. He didn’t _want_ to leave.

“No!” He grabbed David’s gaudy yellow neckerchief and hauled him close. “Don’t you fucking dare! You don’t get to quit this far in, you pusillanimous bitch! This camp might be the shittiest camp I’ve ever been to but at least there’s _food,_ damnit!” Max snarled before he could stop himself.

“Wait, what?” Instead of the relief he was hoping for he found alarm. “Your parents don’t feed you?”

_Well, too late now._

“Of course not,” Max muttered, pushing David away and stepping back so he could fold his arms over his chest. “They’re never home.”

“Max, that’s not ok...” David said as if Max didn’t know that. His genuine concern over this somehow hit the boy full-force in the chest.

“So?” Max uncrossed his arms and looked him in the eye, almost laughing at the oblivious naiveté. “What are you going to do about it? Call CPS?” the boy sneered. David didn’t flinch, simply pursing his lips and frowning harder. “Oh for fucks sake, David! If you call CPS they’ll have to come out here to investigate and what do you think they’ll do when they see how shitty this camp is?” He was fairly sure they would, anyway. As a resident of New York, the California state CPS couldn’t actually do anything to him. More importantly they couldn’t do anything to his family. And even if they could…

Realization unfurled down his counselor’s face and was it Max’s imagination or did he look a little green? “Exactly.”

The boy turned away but before he could head back to his tent David was telling him to wait. Bunching his shoulders up around his ears Max swore but didn’t turn back around. “CPS can’t touch them, David. My dad owns a law firm. Just give it a rest already.” He was almost halfway up the path by the time he felt the need to add one last thing. “You’re not going to lose your dumb job because of me. I’ll make sure of it.”

David might have tried to say something about that but thankfully didn’t follow him.

His finger hurt.

\-- **2** \--

_“Hello, this is Cameron Campbell speaking– unless this is the FBI, the Russian mob, or anyone from Kentucky. Then I’m Jameron Bellcamp and you can forget this number. Who am I speaking to today?”_

“Why don’t you open with that first, idiot? Jesus, I thought _David_ was dumb. It’s no wonder you have to live on international waters.”

 _“Oh-ho-ho, we got a_ smart-mouth _on the line. Allow me to just_ reel you in _. How did you come about this number, little Maxwell.”_

Max had to work to keep himself from snorting. Maxwell wasn’t his full name, nor was it his real name. It was just an easy nickname for white folks to pronounce. “Oh, yeah. David’s about to get arrested? So I took his phone.”

The response was totally expected and wholly satisfying.

_“He’s WHAT!”_

Ah, yes. Nothing like putting the fear of god into a conman’s heart. Or, more accurately in this case, fear of the American judicial system.

“ _Uh. I mean. Why is Davey, my favorite camp counselor and_ definitely not _my best back-up fall guy, being arrested?”_

“Something about a supposedly fake flamethrower stolen from the US military. I guess someone forgot to scratch off the serial number or whatever. Not that I’d know what that is, being just a kid. Hey, do you think I could use his phone to–”

 _“No time for that, little boy!”_ Max’s scowl darkened. _“I’ve got a fall-guy– I mean; camp counselor to save!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CCP – Child Care Professional  
> SAF – Society of American Forests  
> FPT – Foster Parent Training
> 
> Sorry this one is late. Haven't been feeling well. 
> 
> I know it's super redundant but 'x's and 'o's please!
> 
> If anyone has been out there protesting; please stay safe! Join the cause but do not agitate, loot, or fight - even if the police deserve or are 'asking for it'. Just one person getting violent is enough to set the whole cause back. Be strong and be peaceful. But most importantly, no matter how upset you are about recent events, stay safe!!


	5. The Final Six

\-- **1** \--

Why Pikeman thought challenging _Max_ to a game of poker was a good idea he would never know. But, however he got there, there he was.

Sitting at a tiny kids table in the middle of the activity field.

Gambling.

With Cameron Campbell.

Who had _literally just_ saved David’s career, and by extension, the fucking camp.

And yet _somehow_ Campbell or maybe even David himself had put the ‘fate of the camp’ on the winner so now Max _had_ to win. It seriously always came down to him, didn’t it?

The whole affair was as boring as it was ridiculous and Max wondered if Sasha would’ve been a better opponent…

Probably. Pikeman barely knew how to play. The very first thing he did was try to bet _all_ of his chips.

They were an hour in now. Pikeman had folded 46 minutes ago while, somehow and for some reason, Campbell had joined and started obsessively raising the stakes about _45_ minutes ago, and _Max_ was _bored_ out of his _mind_. 

“I _raise_ the stakes!” Campbell declared _again_ to Gwen’s tired reminder _“there are no stakes to raise anymore this is for children.”_ Despite her tone she seemed as invested in the game as the other kids, likely because her job was on the line. Max had absolutely no idea where everyone else’s interest in this came from. He gambled for food all the damn time back home. This was as exciting as grocery shopping with food stamps.

“I never thought it would be possible, but somehow this is worse than playing chess with David.” Max complained to Neil. Across from him Campbell started sweating again.

Max had ended up with a royally shitty hand this time but even a conman like Campbell couldn’t ignore his unnaturally cold gaze. His family had that effect on people. It’s what made them all so good at business. He was fairly sure _Dadaji_ ran a mob affiliated with the Bajrang Dal back in India.

“Christ, kid! It’s like reading a damn wall!” the camp founder screamed at him.

Max just raised a silent, judgmental, eyebrow at him.

Campbell growled, then said, “Even the best gambler knows when he’s beaten. Very well, little Michael! I fold.” With an air of dignity he threw his cards on the table and sat back down in his children’s chair to wait with a patronizing smile on his face.

“Good. I was raised by them.” Max smirked at Campbells _Four of a Kind_ and threw down his own, less impressive, hand; a _Two Pair._ Campbell’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets and he jumped to his feet, gripping the sides of the plastic table and looking at Max’s cards like he couldn’t believe he’d been tricked. Max couldn’t really blame him for that. If he were a middle-aged international convict he’d be upset about his loss too.

The crowd of kids around them was quiet. Even the counselors seemed confused. In fact, the only one who’d had any idea of what was happening this entire time was Nurf and he was the _only one_ not paying any attention.

“Oh for fucks sake. That means he gave up!” Max barked at them. The Camp Campbell campers cheered and crowed victoriously, immensely enthusiastic about the ice cream pizza party and movie marathon they’d been promised. Because _saving the camp_ wasn’t enough these days. The Woodscouts, meanwhile, looked sad and left out. Max of course, didn’t give a shit, and watched Nikki chase them off with fond satisfaction.

He had to admit;

He was going to miss this shitty camp.

\-- **2** \--

Max may be a master manipulator and a lying little devil but, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t lie to himself about this: He was scared.

He was always scared.

And lately, as he watched summer draw to a close, he started to scare _himself._

Life was so small, he realized as he stood on the edge of a rocky cliff, and his would be so _easy_ to end…

\-- **3** \--

“Alright. See ya, fuck-heads,” Max grumbled, shouldering his duffle bag as he stepped off the camp bus and began walking away from the lot.

“Oh no you don’t,” Gwen cut in and grabbed his shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere until your parents are here. I am _not_ letting you fuck up my final hours to freedom, Max.”

“Gwen’s mostly right!” David chirped, trotting over from where he’d just finished saying goodbye to Dolph and Preston. “I know you want to go home right away but I’m sure your parents are almost here so just be patient a little longer. Ok?”

Most kids had parents that were already waiting for them in the parking lot when the bus arrived so they were dispersing quickly. But, of course, not without first exchanging a few more redundant farewells and Max didn’t want to stick around and watch that, especially not when he had a bus to catch on the other side of town.

He hated goodbyes more than anything else and he definitely wasn’t going to just sit there and watch his friends leave.

Max shot him a dark and threatening glare, one that still made his counselors sweat. Had David really learned _nothing_ this summer?

“Why not?” the boy demanded, genuinely confused. “I’m not your responsibility anymore. Besides, my parents aren’t coming, David. I feel like we’ve established that by now. I’ve gotta catch the greyhound express bus on the other side of town so just let. Me. _Go._ ”

\-- **4** \--

David didn’t let him go.

Max missed his bus and wasted his money on non-refundable tickets.

When he’d tried to assure the strangely overprotective man that he’d be _fine_ by telling him he’d already used the greyhound buses to _get_ to Camp Campbell, the idiot went and overreacted in front of everyone. Well, so had everyone else, in Max’s opinion.

It had taken a lot of arguing and many frustrating hours of waiting in the dark before Gwen and David dragged Max back to camp, where they continued their unsuccessful attempts to call his parents. He’d watched them struggle until it got boring and he had to remind the idiots that there was a four hour time zone difference between California and New York.

Max had wandered off while David and Gwen tried to figure out what to do with him. He really, really didn’t want to talk with CPS again. The process had been so damn tedious last time and nothing good ever came of it.

“Max!”

He grimaced and tucked himself further into his hoodie. This had been a shit day from the start and his worst case scenario had come to fruition.

“Max, are you here?”

Why couldn’t David just leave him be?

“Where are you?!”

It was cold tonight and a steady rain had started falling. The lake was turbulent. A sharp wind cut through his clothes.

“Ma– Oh! There you are!” Max didn’t bother to look at his _former_ camp counselor. He’d come out here to hide under the woodwardia facing the lake so he wouldn’t have to deal with him. This was his favorite hiding place and David had no right to find him there.

Too bad a sullen silence wasn’t enough to keep him away.

“Woodwardia ferns are great, aren’t they? Did you know they’re the largest fern in America?” David commented, crawling in to sit beside him.

Max didn’t respond. He didn’t look at him. He didn’t move. The air between them grew tense and David became notably uncomfortable.

“Their fronds can sometimes be more than five feet tall, can you believe that? That means there are fronds out there bigger than you, Max–!”

“Get to the point.” The boy growled.

Max did _not_ want to have this conversation.

Max _really_ did _not_ want to have this conversation.

Looking into David’s eyes the angry boy wondered if he could will the man’s death if he tried hard enough.

All things considered, Max made this coffin himself. And, he realized, he’d been building it since the start of the summer. He couldn’t do much about it now but get it over with.

That didn’t make him any less resentful, though.

David deflated and his voice became subdued. “Gwen and I finally managed to get someone on the phone. They said you had to–”

“‘Come home by himself or not at all’? Yeah. Could have told you that myself, David.” Max snorted meanly, “Not like it would have made a difference. Adults never listen.”

David flinched. “Max–”

“What did CPS have to say?”

That little comment audibly took the red head’s breath away and a moment passed before he could find his words again. “Max,” he spoke carefully, like he hadn’t fully decided what was ok to say yet, “I know how hard this must be for you–”

Max couldn’t help himself.

He threw back his head and _laughed._

He laughed, and he laughed, and he laughed until his face was wet with tears and his cheeks ached. But he obviously wasn’t happy. Thankfully David didn’t say anything.

“You really– you really think you _understand_ , David? _You?_ You’re the worst person, the _dumbest_ person, the most annoying, insufferable, _clueless fucking bastard_ I have ever met in _my life!_ ” Max hardly even realized he’d stood up, putting himself level with David’s horrified eyes. “I hate _you_ more than I’ve ever hated _anyone.”_ As pissed as a feral cat that’d been betrayed and shoved in a crate Max turned on his heel and stormed away just as the sky really opened up. Now it was pouring, rumbles of thunder came accompanied by flashes of lightening.

It all just made him feel worse.

“Max, wait! Please!” David scrambled to his feet and chased after the boy. Max tried to walk faster but David caught his shoulder and pulled him back. “I’m sorry–!” He was viciously brushed off.

“Oh, don’t you _dare!”_ The tears in Max’s eyes were indistinguishable from the rain but the tightness of his throat gave him away. He didn’t know why this was such a big deal to him anymore.

“Don’t you fucking _dare,_ David.” Neither spoke for a moment; David because he didn’t know what to say and Max because he had to catch his breath. The sheer amount of guilt in the man’s eyes was almost enough to really, _truly,_ make Max–

“Don’t you dare pretend to know anything about me, you sick selfish fuck.” He held David’s eyes for a second more, then turned and started walking away again.

The rain was coming down so hard rills had split through the loamy earth, creating a network of veins leading down to the lake. Under his breath, so softly he was sure David wouldn’t hear he whispered, “I’m not going to be someone’s goddamn _casualty_ again.”

…

“You’re smaller than a healthy ten year old!” David had to shout to be heard and heard he was. Max froze in his steps. A pulse of lightening lit the night for one desperate second. “You never eat enough even when there is a constant and reliable source of food because you’re not used to having one and you’re scared of what will happen if you _get_ used to it. You hoard food and water.” Max flinched. He’d thought he’d hidden the water better than that. It was more essential than food so he had to– “You show persisting signs of insomnia which should be treated but is instead being ignored. You have night terrors and nightmares and panic attacks.” The child curled into himself and drew up his hood, shivering in his wet clothes.

David was getting passionate but somehow that didn’t seem to do anything more than make him even more serious than before. He walked towards Max.

“You show all the signs of someone suffering PTSD, scars on your neck and back consistent with what must be _dozens_ of overlapping cigarette burns, haven’t got any PJs, only packed two sets of the same clothes, _flinch_ like you think I’m going to _hit you_ – and those are just the _obvious_ signs, Max!” David didn’t try to reach for him but it was clear in his tone and the shifting of his feet that he wanted to. Max couldn’t bring himself to look at him and clenched his teeth. “You are ten years old but you act like you’re twice _my_ age. And that– no, _none of it_ is your **fucking** fault.”

When Max looked at David again all his defenses had come down and he could barely speak. Instead of trying he just stared back at the determined camp counselor. He was too tired to conceal how he felt with rage and anger anymore.

He was so lost and scared.

But he still knew what came next.

And Max wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do it again.

\-- **5** \--

The secretary that had to come pick him up was none too pleased about it.

And, just as before, Max had been right about CPS: they couldn’t touch the Bhatia’s.

Max let his personality shrivel and dry up, shoving it into a corner of his mind blanketed by vacuous apathy. Yoselyn would be waiting for him at home, standing in for two people so burdened by their parasitic offspring they couldn’t stand to cut their long vacation short.

\-- **6** \--

With a happy sigh David set down his bags and looked up at the ostentatious apache house, hands on his hips. It had taken almost two weeks after camp ended but, with help from Gwen and the Millers, he’d made it and Yoselyn would never work as a fulltime sitter ever again.

In the background, the hustle and bustle of New York city continued as it always did. The absence of the great outdoors was still a little disquieting to David, but he knew he’d get used to it.

A soft smile on his face he grabbed his bags and straightened up.

It was as he was approaching the front door that a porthole window on the third floor popped open and a familiar head pushed out.

 _“David!? You’re_ the new sitter?!”

“Max! I missed you! Did you miss me, too?!” David expertly ignored a variety of projectiles thrown his way from the upper story.

“Fuck, I missed him!” he heard Max snarl.

David gasped enthusiastically. “I knew you would!” he called back. “Oh boy, I just can’t _wait_ to get started! Are you ready to have fun, Max?!”

Max responded with a tortured shrieking sound and disappeared behind the porthole as David inserted the key and stepped inside.

They had a long road ahead of them, but, by golly he was going to get Max _out_ of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to publish a sequel but I got hired for a scientific research tech position which is going to take up a huge chunk of my time so I couldn't finish it.
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone! I've answered most reviews by now. I'll try to answer the rest soon.
> 
> P.S.: For those who are interested, I'm a published author. If you would like to read my original work you can find it here: https://www.amazon.com/Against-Rapids-Little-Cages-Book-ebook/dp/B07SLNR6KT


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